"Please,please,this is just between us,don't get her involved."
"Oh Sherlock you don't get it do you."
"Get what! SHE'S NOT A PART OF THIS GAME!"
"She's a big part of this game, far more involved than you could ever believe..."
*1 year earlier*
Sherlock Homes and John Watson had just been called to the scene of suspected murder. A man in his 40s was found in a hotel room with a shocked look on his face and a bullet in his head,all of the windows, the balcony door and the hotel room door were locked when the police arrived no signs of a forced entry were found. The police were confused. So they reluctantly called upon the worlds only consulting detective.
When the detective and his blogger arrived they where greeted by DI Lestrade,who quickly informed the duo of what was known to the police."It's not a lot Sherlock but I'm sure you'll be able to do something." Lestrade wasn't sure,he was positive. Many cases like this one had only been solved due to the detectives skills of deduction and no mater how much most of the force hated him,they needed him.
"Oh I assure you Lestrade,"The detective grinned,enjoying winding the DI up, "I allrea-"Sherlock was cut off by some one running into him, pushing him into a wall and causing the person to fall backwards onto the floor. Well they would fallen if Sherlock hadn't managed to grab them tightly by the wrist and stop them falling.
"Oh my god! I'm so sorry,are you hurt!I didn't mean to bump into you!"
Sherlock just looked at the girl who had bumped into him. She was thin and had brown hair reaching down to her waist,her eyes were a light greenish blue shade and looking into them made him feel strange, it was a weird but pleasant feeling he hadn't experience more than a small amount of times, definitely not recently, and had forgotten what it meant. However for now he pushed the feeling into the back of his mind, he had work to do.
When Sherlock returned from his thoughts he saw that he was still tightly holding on to the girls wrist earning him shocked stares from John and Lestrade."Um no I'm fine..d-don't worry"the detective mumbled dropping her wrist and looking away to a spot somewhere in the distance cursing him self and waiting until she walked away,watching her out of the corner of his eye as she started talking to Anderson.
"Who,who is she,why have I never seen her before?"
"Oh,well her names Elsa Brown I think, she's new on the forensics team. Started yesterday I think. Strange girl, quite like you to be honest." Lestade was puzzled,why was Sherlock interested in this one new member of Scotland Yard? Over the years he had known the detective there had been many new officers and he'd never taken and interest before now. And his reaction to her was just so out of character,he'd never seen him like that before. Ever. But Sherlock was Sherlock. When did he ever do ANYTHING that made sense to any one other than him self?
It didn't take Sherlock long to solve the case,it turned out that the man was killed by a maid who's heart he had broken after an affair 3 years ago,she had carefully pland the murder and then carried it out. The maid had entered the room using a skeleton key, shot the man and left, locking the door behind her, making it look like she was never there. Simple. However John was worried,when ever they came across a crime like this, so simple, it drove Sherlock crazy. Back at the flat he would almost start clawing the walls like a caged animal, he would play the violin, but not the classical pieces he would usually play,but screeching tunes that would send shivers up his spine. Often Sherlock would start smoking like a steam train or abuse the use of his nicotine patches. But this time was different. Back at the flat Sherlock just walked past John and into his room with out a word or even a expression on his face. No mention of the case. No smoking. No screeching violin No clawing at the walls Something was wrong. But John didn't know what. Yes during a case Sherlock might not talk for hours on end keeping him self to his self,John could understand this and almost encouraged it, despite of his doctoring self telling him it was bad for his flatmate and friend. After a case was when Sherlock was usually the most alive. The most human and lest like,well,this.
Sherlock couldn't get Elsa out of his head and the feeling was back. The feeling which was strange. The feeling he didn't know.
And Sherlock didn't like not knowing.